


The Wildflowers

by BenjisCoolTimes



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Cancer, Death, F/M, Heavy Angst, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 16:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8335036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BenjisCoolTimes/pseuds/BenjisCoolTimes
Summary: Ben and Leslie's whole life is thrown upside down when Ben's diagnosed with cancer.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize. I super apologize. Please don't hate me.

_“Do you know that wildflower mural up on the second floor?”_

_“Mhmm,” Leslie said, her heart beating a little bit faster._

_“Yeah? You want to meet there?” he smiled._

_“Yeah.”  she said._

_That’s when she knew she’d be spending the rest of her life with Ben Wyatt. They were going to have a forever, starting with that very moment._

***

It’s strange, really, how Leslie never actually thought anything bad was  going to happen to her. She knew that terrible things happened every day of course; she’d heard the stories all the time. She heard about the woman three houses down who miscarried late in her pregnancy, and so she sent some warm brownies her way and talked with Ann about how awful it all was, about how unfair life could be, but then she carried on with her own life as usual, because at the end of the day it wasn't really her burden to bear. 

She heard about the man who was killed in a car accident earlier that week, and she gave her condolences to his wife at his funeral, but by the time the next morning came, she’d practically forgotten already; forgotten because it wasn't her and forgotten because she was safe, at least for then, from all of the horrors of the world. 

When it _was_ her though, everything changed. She began to wonder why she ever thought baking someone a casserole would help ease the pain or why she thought standing in lines at wakes and funerals was the best way to show her support, because it really wasn’t. Everything became a reminder of what happened, of what she lost, and she wanted it all to end. She wanted to forget. 

She wanted to forget all the sleepless nights in the hospital holding his hand and watching as his usually bright eyes darkened with each passing of a new day. She wanted to forget pulling their three beautiful children into his room and explaining the best way she could why daddy’s been away for so long, why he couldn’t play right now, and why they had to hug him extra tight that day. She wanted to forget ever saying goodbye.

But most of all, a small part of her just wanted to forget ever meeting him in the first place, to forget falling so deeply in love with him, because maybe it would be easier that way, easier if she didn’t even remember he existed at all. 

***

It started with back pain. 

“Daddy!” Sonia yelled as soon as he walked through the door, running at him full speed and leaping into his arms. 

“Hey, baby,” Ben said as he scooped her up, planting kisses all along her cheeks and making her giggle uncontrollably. Stephen and Wesley were next, and he gave the same treatment to each of his other children, just as lovingly and excitedly as he did for Sonia. Leslie watched him, a smile playing across her face as he met her eyes from over the top of Stephen’s head. 

“Hey,” he mouthed. 

“Hey yourself,” she whispered back. He still gave her goosebumps even after all this time, and she loved seeing him like this, so happy and loving with their perfect little family. 

Ben put Stephen down and ruffled his son’s hair before coming over to Leslie, pressing his lips to hers and sighing softly into her mouth, relieved to be home. 

“Long day?” she asked, noticing how her husband’s hair was somehow even messier than usual, most likely from the amount of times he’d run his hands through it; he did that a lot when he was stressed.

“You have no idea. And my back is killing me,” he answered, rubbing her arms affectionately and planting a final kiss on the inside of her wrist. 

“Well maybe you should stop picking up these little monsters all the time…” she suggested playfully, pointing at their children, as if what she’d proposed wasn't completely out of the question.

“I can’t help it,” he shrugged, smiling. 

“Maybe you should call Dr. Harris. Physical therapy might help,” Leslie said, placing a salad and four grilled cheeses on the dinner table. 

“I already made an appointment. I’ll go see him on my lunch break tomorrow,” he told her, and really, she wasn't even worried. She hadn't even thought to be scared at all, because it was just some back pain, and Ben wasn't as young as he used to be anymore. 

Things were different when he came home the next night. Something had shifted in the air and Leslie picked up on it instantly. Stephen, Sonia and Wesley, however, noticed no change at all, and they ran, as they usually did, right into their father’s arms, talking over one another as they shared stories with him about their day. 

Ben didn’t pick them up. That was her first inkling that something was wrong; he’d always picked them up before.

He pressed a kiss to her temple after the kids had run off and squeezed her more tightly than he normally did, squeezed her like he’d lose her if he let go. 

“Long day?” she asked again, but this time he just shook his head. 

“We need to talk once they’re all in bed,” he nodded towards the living room, where happy screams and the sounds of toys being played with could be heard. 

“Honey? Is everything alright? We can always call Ann or someone to watch them while…” 

“No, no,” he pulled her back into his embrace and buried his face into her neck. “We can wait. Everything’s okay.” 

When he pulled back he was smiling softly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, and Leslie felt something tug at her insides. She didn’t like this at all. 

Something wasn't right. 

That night, dinner seemed to drag on forever. Leslie kept letting her gaze fall on Ben, who acted as if nothing was wrong. He listened as the triplets told him about their new class pet, Harold the hamster, and he nodded in all of the right places; it was as if their conversation in the kitchen earlier hadn't even happened. 

“Can we get a hamster, Daddy?” 

“I don’t think so, Peanut,” Ben said, swiping a stray hair off his daughter’s face and looking at her like she was a miracle, and she was. They all were. 

Finally, 8:00 rolled around, and Leslie tucked three six year olds into their respective beds, being sure to kiss each of them goodnight several times before turning down the lights and leaving the room. She stood in the doorway for just a moment, half-marveling in how perfect they all were and half-prolonging her discussion with Ben. As much as she wanted to know what was wrong, she also didn’t. It terrified her.

She finally built up her courage and ventured back into the living room, where Ben was waiting for her with two glasses of wine. His hands shook as he handed one of them to her, but Leslie pretended not to notice. She settled herself into the couch next to him and took his free hand, burrowing into his side and rubbing his leg in a way that she hoped was comforting. 

He was trembling all over.  

“Babe can you just tell me what’s…”

“Pancreatic cancer,” he said without preamble, his voice cracked.  “That’s why I’ve been having back pain.”

Leslie’s heart shattered then, and she’d felt her lip begin to quiver; all of her began to quiver really, and Ben pulled her to him, cradling her head in his hand and telling her everything, telling her about the appointment and diagnosis, about how he’d wanted nothing more than to come home and just hold her, like he was doing right now.  

There were a lot of words being thrown around after that, like _tumor_ and _metastasized,_ but by far the worst ones were, _six months to a year, if I’m lucky._

***

It wasn't until she accompanied Ben to his next appointment that Leslie realized just how short a year really could be, and it wasn’t even likely that Ben would last that long. Leslie held onto his hand and tried to fight back tears as the doctors told them they estimated he had seven months left to live, _seven_.

That number had never felt so small.

“But he doesn't even seem sick,” Leslie insisted, but it didn’t matter. They said that with pancreatic cancer, often times he symptoms were overlooked until it was too late, because no one ever got too worked up over abdominal and back pain. They said that it was likely Ben actually had the tumor for a few years already and didn’t even know it. Apparently it was common, just not as common in men his age. In most cases, men were well into their sixties and seventies before they were diagnosed. 

But, as per usual, she and Ben were one in a million, and this was no different.

“So what do we do?” she asked, and they gave her the worst possible answer she could’ve hoped for:

“We wait.” 

***

At first, not much changed at all, other than the fact that they were at the doctors’ slightly more than they normally were, and Ben was cutting down on any physical activity. If Stephen, Sonia and Wesley noticed that he was picking them up less and less frequently, they didn’t say anything and substituted the contact with crawling into his lap at night and cuddling with him, almost like they knew his days were numbered. 

It was strange how life seemed almost normal despite everything; they both went to work, played with their kids, went on dates and did everything that they’d usually do in-between. In a lot of ways Leslie was thankful for this routine because it allowed her to forget, even just for a little while, that everything would be changing soon, everything would be getting worse, and she wouldn't be able to stop it. 

With time though, little things did begin to change. It wasn't anything too significant, really; it was all stuff she could live with, but she tried not to think too hard about it just the same. She tried to ignore the jaundice that now predominated her husband’s face, and she never once commented on the slight tremor that constantly ran through her body. She gave him his medicine each morning, and he always thanked her with a smile, and they never once discussed how shitty they felt under this cool exterior, but they didn’t need to. 

They both already knew. 

It was because of this facade that Leslie had put up, that she didn’t cry. She had to be strong for him; she had to be strong for Ben, because if she wasn’t, who would be? Who would be there to pick him up on the nights he looked at Stephen, Sonia and Wesley and admitted to her that he was most scared to leave them of anyone? Who would be there to put cool washcloths on his neck on the days when he was plagued with a fever and nausea, throwing up into the toilet and growing even sicker? Who would be there to hold his hand when things got dark and tell him that somehow, it would all be alright? 

In time, Ben’s nausea worsened, and eventually the doctors ordered that he stopped going to work. Three months slipped by, and soon they were hanging on by four. 

Four months was barely anything at all. 

Ben once confessed to her that when dying, four months felt both like a second and like an eternity at once. Leslie never knew how to feel about that, so she just pretended she’d never even heard the words come out of his mouth at all. 

It was easier that way.

Eventually though, four months turned into three, and the doctors urged Ben to make the move to the hospital as soon as he could; he’d be more comfortable there, they said.

He wouldn't be in as much pain.

So the inevitable happened, and Leslie and Ben found themselves on one final date, one last real dinner that was just about the two of them. They didn’t talk about the fact that it was the last one, but they didn’t talk about that sort of thing much, really. 

Ann and Chris came by to watch Stephen, Sonia and Wesley, and they both looked at Ben the way everyone had begun to look at him, the way Leslie grew to hate, with misty eyes and long faces. Ben ignored their stares as he usually did, and he turned to Leslie instead, offering her his outstretched arm.

“M’lady,” he said, and she tucked her arm into the crook of his, pulling him closer and pressing herself into his side.

“Thank you, kind sir.” 

She waved to Ann and Chris as they left the house, and she didn’t once stop to think about how this would be the last time they had this encounter, the last time that she waved goodbye so that she and Ben could have a night out to themselves.

At dinner she didn’t mention how little food he ate or how he seemed to turn positively green with each bite, but instead laughed with him over a glass of wine and joked normally. At the end of the night, they fought over who would pay the bill, and neither of them brought up what they were both thinking; that none of it even mattered anyways because he’d already told her he’d be leaving all of his money in her name.

Then, when they got back home, Leslie undressed them both carefully and kissed every inch of Ben’s skin, whispering promises into his ear. She told him how much she loved him as she swung her hips rhythmically over his, trying not to think about how this was their last time. When they were done, she wrapped herself around him, sharing glances and touches with him and never once removing her hand from where it was slotted in his.

She never wanted to let go.

***

Soon, the hospital became too familiar. Leslie hated that she’d begun to learn the names of the doctors and nurses and receptionists there, hated that they all knew her on a first-name basis too, and that they always greeted her warmly when she walked in. 

She hated that smell that hospitals tended to have, the smell that no one ever associated with anything good at all. She hated all the flowers she’d begun to see and the teddy bears holding ‘get well’ balloons. She hated all of it.

But, most of all she hated room 309. She hated walking in there and seeing her husband, her Ben, so sick and helpless, and she hated that there was nothing she could do. 

She hated that she only had, at most, two months left with him. 

“Hey,” she whispered as she walked into his room. She also hated the way she’d begun to talk so quietly around him, as if her words alone were enough to break him. 

“Hey yourself,” he croaked back, and he smiled. He always smiled when he saw her. 

“I brought you some new movies,” she said, setting both Indiana Jones and The Godfather on his bedside table. “Also, April and Andy said they’d come visit today, if that’s alright.”

“It’s alright,” he smiled. “I just hope I don't throw up all over them.” 

It was a weak attempt at a joke, but Leslie laughed all the same. It reminded her that even though he was here, in this horrible place, he was still Ben. 

Her Ben. 

“Well it isn't like Andy hasn't thrown up all over you either, so you’ll just even it out.” 

Ben tried to chuckle at the memory of his old roommate somehow missing the trash barrel that Ben had held out for him and throwing up all over Ben’s shoes instead, but the movement stirred something within him, and soon Leslie was rubbing his back and whispering words of comfort into his ear as he heaved into a nearby waste bin.

She was never surprised when this happened anymore. In fact, she’d grown somewhat accustomed to it and she was always on guard, ready to hand him the nearest bucket or call a doctor into his room. She felt her worst when she couldn't be with him, when she had to go to work or be home with the kids, and he had to fend for himself. 

She just wanted to spend every moment with him, but the world didn’t stop just because her husband was dying; she was still a politician, still a mother, and the earth kept on turning. 

Like clockwork, as soon as Ben was cleaned up and Leslie had dumped the contents of the wastebasket into the toilet, April and Andy walked in. They were Leslie’s favorite of Ben’s visitors. They never acted like anything was wrong, like anything had changed at all. Of course though, today was different.

“Hey boss,” Andy said bending down to hug Ben probably a bit too tight, and April, shockingly followed suit, even though her hug was over with much more quickly. 

“Hey Andy,” Ben said, “April.” 

He sat up straighter, like he always did when he had guests, as if trying to prove that he really wasn't that sick at all. He and Leslie both knew it was a lie, and mostly everyone else did too, but he did it anyway, and they all let him. 

Right as everyone settled into a seat around his bed, Dr. Martin came in, clipboard in tow, wearing a fake smile which said, ‘everything is fine’, even though nothing was fine. 

“How are we doing today, Ben?” she asked and Ben shrugged. 

“Good,” he told her. It was a lie and they all knew it. 

She stayed only for a few minutes to fill him on on what their plan would be for the next two months, and how they’d do their best to make him comfortable. Ben clutched onto Leslie’s hand with every word, and they both did their best not to let their faces fall at the phrase _two months,_ especially with April and Andy right there. 

“Man, we’re going to really miss you when you’re gone.” Andy said once Dr. Martin had left the room once more.

It was the first anyone had really talked about it, and Leslie choked on her own air. 

“Yeah,” April said, “Who’s gonna reset our wireless router for us when you're not around anymore?” 

“I’ve told you guys a million times,” Ben said, smiling softly, “You just have to unplug it and-”

“Plug it back in again,” April finished with a small smile of her own. “We know.” 

“Wow, so you were actually listening to me all these years?” 

“We were always listening to you, Ben. It was just more fun to make you do it instead.” April told him. 

And for the first time in a long time, Leslie genuinely smiled. 

***

The day after that was not one of the good days. It was the day that the doctors told Ben he had something called ascites, a fluid build-up in his stomach which could only be drained with a needle. They said he’d be more comfortable after the procedure and urged him to do it.

_Comfortable._

It was a word they’d been using a lot, because it’d never been about trying to cure him; he was doomed from the start, it was about trying to put him at ease, trying to minimize his suffering.

It was about getting him ready to die.  

“It’ll only hurt for a few minutes, and then it’ll all be over,” the doctor assured Ben, and then she stuck too-big needle into his stomach and smiled at him reassuringly. “You’re doing great.” 

Ben, wide-eyed and sweating, reached out for Leslie and she came at once, interlocking their fingers and wiping his hair away from his forehead. He began to whimper, which Leslie had never seen him do before, and the sight scared her shitless. She almost called out for Dr. Martin to stop; almost told her it wasn't even worth it because he was already in so much pain anyways, and would this really make it any better? 

But she didn’t end up saying a single word. 

She’d just held onto Ben’s hand and felt more powerless than she’d ever thought she could feel in her entire life. 

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity in hell, the needle was pulled from his stomach, and both he and Leslie both signed in relief. He loosened his grip on her hand, but she held on even tighter. 

_Be strong. Be strong for Ben._

She couldn't do it anymore. She wanted this all to end. 

Leslie crawled into bed beside him, now a pro at rearranging all the wires and cords in a way that made him most comfortable and maneuvering herself around them. She buried her head into his neck and breathed in his familiar scent, feeling herself come undone, unable to keep it all in anymore.

“How are you?” she asked, even though she knew it was a stupid question. 

“Better now that you're here,” he responded. 

And then, because she couldn't keep up with this facade anymore, she finally said what she’d been holding back for so long. She finally let him see the side of her she never let him see, the side of her that was beyond terrified at the thought of losing him, terrified of the day that he would leave her forever.

She couldn't be strong anymore. Not even for him, and it was all so fucked up because he was the one who was dying, and she was the one who was scared. 

“I’m gonna miss you, you know?” she choked, and Ben pulled her closer to him. He was trembling, but then again he was always trembling; it was different this time though.

“I’m gonna miss you too,” he whispered, tears trailing down his cheeks. “I already do.” 

His confession made her cry even harder, and she held onto his shirt with all the strength left in her, just hoping that maybe if she held onto him tightly enough, all of this would go away. 

“I thought we had forever,” she sobbed. “I thought we had a lifetime.” 

“You gave me a lifetime,” he said, squeezing her hand with everything he had left in him. “You really did.”  

***

One month came far too quickly. 

She spent most of her days now, just watching him sleep. It was unfair, really, how they were counting down the minutes to the end, and he wasn't even awake half of the time. Today, though, he was more lively than usual, which is to say that his eyes were heavy-lidded, but open nonetheless. 

She was on the chair next to his bed, watching Star Wars with him, when suddenly he’d turned away from the TV.

“Leslie?” he asked, and she hated how much effort it took him just to say just that single word, how much effort it took him now just to say her name.

“Yeah baby?” she held onto his hand because it felt like the right thing to do. 

“Do you believe in Heaven?” 

There was a sharp intake in Leslie’s breath. Whatever she’d been expecting him to say, it had not been that. 

“I- I don’t know.” 

“Well, I do,” Ben croaked out. “In my Heaven, I get to see you be the president, sitting up in the Oval Office and dedicating your days to public service. I get to stand by your side as you pass and veto bills, even if you can’t see me there. You’ll be president, you know that right?” 

Tears had begun to trickle from the corners of Leslie’s eyes, and she held onto her husband’s hand perhaps too tightly. 

“Ben…” 

“And in my Heaven, I get to see Stephen, Sonia and Wesley, and Sonia has that hamster she’s been asking for ever since they got one at school. They’re all healthy and happy, which I know they will be because you’re their mom.”  

“Ben, I- ”

“But really, Leslie, my Heaven is like that wildflower mural up on the second floor of City Hall. There are wildflowers everywhere, so many of them in giant, endless fields that stretch on forever. And one day, many, many years down the line, I’m gonna see you there. But you better not come for a long time okay? You deserve a long, happy life.” 

“So do you.” 

“No, Leslie,” Ben said, “I can live with the fact that I’m gonna die soon, but the thought of you-, I refuse to let that happen, so you better not step into my Heaven for another forty years, at least. Promise me.” 

Leslie was full on sobbing now, and she nodded her head, hiccuping. 

“I promise, Ben. I promise.” 

“Good,” he whispered, his voice beyond hoarse now. “I love you.”

“I love you too. So very much, Ben.” 

He smiled before drifting off to sleep, and she never once let go of his hand.

That night, before she went home, Leslie stopped at the pet store and bought Sonia a hamster. Life was too short, she figured.

***

The goodbyes were the worst part of it all.

Chris and Ann came first, and though Leslie’d seen Chris do his fair share of crying, nothing compared to this. He’d tried to be strong, Leslie could tell, but when his eyes met Ben’s sunken ones, and he saw just how skinny his friend had become, Chris broke down. 

They didn’t stay for long, and Leslie understood why. A small part of her thought she’d leave too if she could. 

But, by far the worst goodbye though, was when she brought Stephen, Sonia and Wesley into his room. That goodbye was much too vivid and much too real.

As soon as the triplets saw their father, they immediately let go of Leslie’s hands and ran towards him. 

She’d discussed with them earlier that they couldn’t jump on Daddy or play with him, that they had to be careful otherwise they might hurt him, so they stopped short in front of his bed, looking confused as to why he looked so different, so frail.

“Daddy?” Stephen asked, and Ben grabbed onto his son’s hand, looking at him lovingly.

“Yeah Stephen, it’s me.” 

“We miss you, Daddy.” Sonia told him, trying to get into bed with him, but Leslie held out a hand to stop her. Instead, she picked her up and placed her beside Ben carefully, being sure not to lay her across any wires or tubes. 

“Be careful,” Leslie whispered and Sonia nodded, snuggling into Ben’s side. Ben looked away for a moment, but no amount of trying to compose himself could stop the tears from coming. Sonia reached a small hand up and wiped her father’s cheeks clean, or attempted to at least.

“No crying, Daddy,” she said. “I love you very much, and I don't like it when you cry.”  

“Okay, Peanut,” Ben choked out, smiling softly. 

Next it was Stephen’s turn to lay in Ben’s bed with him, and then after that, it was Wesley’s. As soon as Leslie placed Wesley down, he hugged Ben immediately, and he was the first of the triplets to cry. 

“Mommy says you’re going away soon. When will we get to see you again?” Wesley asked. 

Leslie hadn't known what else to tell them, because really, how do you explain death to a few six year olds? She hadn't even known how to explain it to herself. 

The question rendered Ben speechless for several long moments, and his son looked expectantly up at him. Finally Ben found the words, but his voice was garbled and so unlike his own.

“Not for a very long time.” 

***

When Leslie woke up on the morning that it happened, she knew. It was strange really, because a part of her was ready. She didn’t try to fight it anymore or prolong the process, because it was time; Ben was ready to go now. 

He was asleep when she got to the hospital, but she didn’t mind. She took ahold of his hand and just watched the rise and fall of his chest, marveling in how miraculous it was that she even got to know him at all. He’d changed her, made her better and happier, and now he was leaving, and she wasn't sure what to do. 

She slid into the sheets next to him and carded her fingers through his hair. It wasn’t as thick as it used to be, but it still had this way of defying gravity that made her smile. 

“It’s okay, Ben,” she said, kissing his cheeks and hands and every part of him she could reach. “It’s okay; you can go now. I understand.” 

Ben cracked an eye open and there was just the slightest amount of pressure applied to her hand.

“You think I’m gonna go that easy, Knope?” he rasped. 

“Well, I just figured I’d give you the option,” Leslie laughed softly through her tears and rubbed her thumb over Ben’s knuckles. She hugged him closer to herself, and Ben smiled. It was a small smile, but such a happy one. 

“I love you, you know that?” she said, forcing the words through the lump in her throat. She didn’t want him to see how scared she was. She just wanted him to die with that little smile on his face and not a worry about anything else in the world.

Ben nodded so slightly it was hard to tell if he’d even moved at all.

“Meet me in the wildflowers, okay?” he said, and Leslie knew that this time, the words really did take everything he had left. He drew one last ragged breath, exhaled, and grew still. His hand slackened in hers, but Leslie held onto it anyway, held on tightly enough for the both of them.

“Okay,” she said, vision clouded with tears and her lip quivering so much it was hard to speak. “Okay, I’ll see you there.” 

And Leslie left a corner of her heart in room 309 forever. 

***

She didn’t remember much about the funeral. She remembered wanting to eulogize him, to honor his memory, but not saying anything at all, because Leslie Knope, the queen of speeches, was finally lost for words. 

She was lost in a lot of ways. She didn’t know how she’d be able to go on without him. She didn’t even understand how the earth could keep turning without him in it, and each time she looked at his casket, she lost a little bit of herself. 

She left a corner of her heart in there too, the corner that belonged solely to Ben and no one else. 

“I miss you,” she whispered, even though she knew she was just talking to wood, talking to his body, but not to him. 

Then, in a few days time, she stood over his grave, tears in her eyes as she kicked at the dirt around his tombstone. 

“We were supposed to have forever,” she said, and then she turned around and left, and didn’t visit again for several years.

***

In time, she learned how to live again. The days stretched into months and the months stretched into years, and her life went on even though Ben Wyatt was no longer in it. 

Ben was like a phantom limb; she felt the itch often, and even though he was gone, in many ways he was still there. She saw him in the faces of their children, and she saw him in all the things he loved. There were even some days where she saw him in herself. 

Then, there came a day when Leslie was eighty-five years old and happier than she had been in a very long time, when she’d retired to bed for the evening, and she just knew; knew that this was it and she had somewhere else to be now. So, she drifted off to an easy sleep and didn’t wake up in the morning.

She found her husband’s hand for the first time in forty years, and marveled in how young he was in Heaven, how alive he was and how wonderful it was to finally be able to press her lips to his again.

“Hey,” she said, pulling away from the kiss.

“Hey yourself.” 


End file.
